


for your eyes only / act up - claurenz kinktober shorts

by meowcosm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Bickering, Dirty Talk, Epistolary, Fantasizing, Fear of Discovery, Long-Distance Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Love Bites, Love Letters, M/M, Masturbation, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Sexual Inexperience, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex, bumping up of lorenz's age by like a decade for plot reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26760313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowcosm/pseuds/meowcosm
Summary: PT 1 - (for your eyes only)Hundreds of miles separate Lorenz and Claude. Nevertheless, a private letter from his lover leaves Lorenz inspired.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37
Collections: kinktober 2020





	1. for your eyes only

**Author's Note:**

> day 1 of kinktober baby let's GO 
> 
> lorenz is written as transmasc in this; flowery neutral terms are used throughout but it is about vaginal fingering.

Lorenz’s days tended to end not with a bang, but with a simmer. Long meetings scheduled immediately after one another dragged on long; regardless of the building summer heat concentrating in the old halls of Gloucester manor. Even after days where he struggled to find any peace for the volume of queries placed on his shoulders, his nights were often composed of little more than fielding basic queries and comforting the nerves of whoever found themselves troubled that day. To eat a decent meal and to take a pleasant bath before staggering exhausted into his bedchambers- those things had become the benchmark of a relaxing night. 

He didn’t mind it. Perhaps his body did, in the way that its aches and complaints lingered long into its days. But he had long come to terms with the fact that any meaningful difference between him and his father was predicated, and almost solely so, on the sincerity of his commitment to the territory, Fodlan, and the world. 

On that matter, he did not intend to falter.

His better nights were not, however, non-existent. If a minister or a guest were to be called off sick, or to quell an outbreak of violence, it was easier for him to find time for himself in the night. With his _proclivities_ avowed to an irregular visitor, he balked at the idea of inviting a visitor to his bedchamber to relax, but in the solace of his room- and after a lot of investigation of the matter- he had found that the pleasures of the body were, in fact, one of the easiest and quickest ways to calm himself down before indulging in a longer night of sleep. 

It was just another thing he had to do himself. 

Returning to his bedchambers as the June sun set over Gloucester, Lorenz found his mind filled with thoughts of what he’d taken care to prepare for himself. He considered, in great detail, the golden sealing-wax stamped with the crest of Riegan, the sublime feeling of the parchment underneath his fingers, the way his lover seemed to watch him through the words he wrote each time he read them. Such thoughts occupied him well into his undressing, formal garments cast aside; and into his folding and organizing of said garments, precise and reliable despite the arousal which began to well inside of him as he considered just what Claude might have written to him.

When he finally came to sit at his desk, lower half unclothed and pressed against the upholstery of his chair, Lorenz fetched the envelope from his desk drawer. Careful to not disturb the presentation of it before it was truly opened, lest he sabotage that simple pleasure for himself too, he placed it neatly before him on the leather writing-pad which laid upon the flat wooden surface. With careful consideration, he allowed himself to break the shimmering seals’ lustre in a single swift motion, causing the top of the envelope to swing backwards with the weight of the remaining wax. 

He drew the letter gently from its envelope, and unraveled it in front of him. True to his prediction, the black-ink scrawls written on it were done in the handwriting of none other than Claude von Riegan, accentuated with the stylistic whorls and calligraphic shapes which befitted him. 

Reciting the words only in his mind; lest he be overheard, Lorenz began to read. 

_To Lorenz,_

_I miss you._

_I say that all the time. You know that, and I know that. But it’s still true._

_Weather here is to be expected. Very, very warm. I imagine it’s no better for you, so I’m not going to ask for your sympathy. But I’ve been looking forward to when things are colder. Mostly because that’s when I’ll get to see you._

Lorenz turned the words over in his mind. They were less brusque than he wanted them to be- he was impatient, and for good reason. But the formalities were well-suited to Claude, and he could certainly be patient enough to reach the truly exciting content further down.

_I hope you’ve been taking good care of yourself. You looked ragged as a river-drowned cat last time I saw you._

_(PS - Someone brought me a swimming cat from their home province a few days ago. I’m writing this because if I don’t tell you now, I won’t remember it.)_

Lorenz grunted. He didn’t see how _that_ was relevant.

_Doing your job right also involves making sure you’re not about to kick the bucket at any given moment. Hopefully, you can find a balance between being like your father and pulling your own hair out at the roots soon enough. I’d like it if both of us could._

_I’ll admit to you that I have an ulterior motive for saying this, though. Which is quite novel, really. Me, admitting my motives._

_When I come see you, I’m going to make love to you. I was going to say I would fuck you, but that’s not good enough. I’m going to make love to you, Lorenz, and when I do, I want to see you below me without any bags under your eyes, and with your skin looking like you’ve been drinking enough water._

Lorenz sighed as he slipped two fingers inside of himself, one pressed closer to the point of his pleasure than the other. He hadn’t _expected_ Claude to write to him without bugging him as to his self-preservation skills, so he couldn’t exactly complain. But he felt hasty, and was sure that if the letter did not get to the point that he would skim it for mention of touches, and touching, in general. 

_I miss tasting you. I want to go down and press my lips to you, and slip my tongue inside and sing to you. You’re always so warm when I do that to you, and so noisy, even when you don’t let me kiss the insides of your thighs._

Lorenz thrusted further inside. He wondered briefly if it was his sleep-addled state that made him so vulnerable to Claude’s flattering, but he didn’t allow himself to think more on the topic. Not when his blood was running south at the mere _thought_ of Claude lapping sweetly inside of him. Allowing him the chance to give hickeys was a rare treat for his lover, but he felt sure that if Claude were to somehow materialize next to him, that he would allow him infinite teasing bites at the soft flesh. 

_I worry that I’ll forget your taste. It’s something I don’t know how to describe. But it reminds me of you- how alive you are, and how wonderful you are to touch and hold. When I can finally come back to you, I’m going to need a lot of time re-familiarizing myself with that. I hope it’s something you can handle; as I don’t intend to let up._

Lorenz let himself rut harder against his own palm, angling himself for better friction. His fingers could not mimic Claude’s tongue, but their gliding against his lips sent waves of pleasure through him regardless of the fact. Eager, and regardless of the increasing blurriness of his vision, he continued to scan the length and breadth of the letter beneath him. 

_When I touch myself, that’s what I keep coming back to. You, beneath me, whimpering and crying out from just how good it feels to be treated like that. Of course, I want you to touch me as well. But sometimes it’s like I wouldn’t even need that- I could get off to the sound of your voice alone._

He’d let Claude do that- he was sure of it. It was almost too flattering for Lorenz, to hear Claude talk of how the only thing necessary to make him erect was the sound of his own pleasure. But he indulged himself in it, angling his thumb to rub against the tender flesh of his cock. Imagining, the whole time, how wonderful it might be to have Claude eat him out while he laid consumed by pleasure on his back, only to find afterwards that Claude had managed to finish simply by doing so. 

_Two months can’t pass fast enough. It’s difficult to touch yourself and write at the same time- harder than it is to do that and read. Rest assured that I’ve properly digested your last communications- that little snippet of poetry was wonderful, by the way._

_And, I came hard enough that I almost blacked out for a few seconds._

That last thought- of Claude coming, frustrated, over himself, was enough to finish Lorenz off. He shook as he struck against the most sensitive part inside himself, entire body juddering in the peaceful moments that his hands provided for him. A spare drop of drool fell from his open jaw onto the paper of the letter; yet he was too far gone to care. He chased the high for as long as he could, a great sigh wrought from his mouth at the end of it as he sank back into the physical, Claude-free world around him. 

_I’ll see you then. But I’m going to keep writing for you- so remember to keep having letters with the Riegan seal marked as **your eyes only**. _

His chair was wet- uncomfortably so. He shuffled off of it as quick as he could, and withdrew quietly underneath the covers of his bed. As far as he was concerned, the letter could be put away the next morning, consigned to live in the limbo where much of his leisure activities were confined to. 

He drew himself close to the silken warmth of the bedding, and curled up gently against it with a relaxed sigh. For the first time in a week, he could feel no ache in his shoulders before he slept, overwhelmed as he had been with numbing pleasure. The knowledge of the next morning hung heavy in his mind- but he resolved to not meet with such anxieties too soon, and rather sink into the solace of his mind. 

As his eyes flickered shut, Lorenz imagined Claude at the foot of his bed, gently dipping down to pry his thighs apart.


	2. act up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Already the man of the hour in his home cinema, Claude looks to make it big in Fodlan, too. 
> 
> Lorenz- a pedigree veteran of the industry- gets talked into providing some expert mentoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the closest thing to a plot i think any of my kinktober pieces have gotten, and it's still just an excuse plot for nearly 2k worth of horny

_Two hours. Two whole hours of being off-stage and in costume, all because of this._

Claude _had_ heard Felix Fraldarius had a penchant for storming off of the set when he didn’t get his way. But he’d never expected it to work to his advantage. 

It hardly surprised him that Lorenz was quite familiar with the makeup and costuming department. Ever since they’d met- years ago, at acting school, where Lorenz had somehow been roped into giving a rather pompous graduation speech- he’d known Lorenz to be the sort who always wore makeup. Even if he’d denied it for a long time, and had only recently began wearing it for self-expression rather than to alter his appearance, he never seemed to run out of things to discuss with the technicians whose jobs were to lathe makeup on actors doomed to sweat out for the next few hours under piercingly bright and hot studio lights. 

All, of course, very much unlike him. Claude felt fairly sure that if he was captured, and asked to name three separate brands of mass-market makeup in exchange for his life, he’d be leaving wherever his captor took him in a rather unflattering body bag. 

They talked about that sometimes. But as the two of them snaked through the backstage hallways, trawling through the corridors which their co-stars and compatriots had been holding themselves up in for weeks on weeks, his knowledge mattered for one reason, and one reason only- 

he knew where would be _quiet_. Deserted, even, perfect for a mid-afternoon tryst. 

Lorenz was a fast enough walker to leave Claude breathless by the time they reached their destination, leaving Claude to miss Lorenz fishing a set of bedazzled keys from the pocket of his own smart-looking blue tweed coat. When he arrived, huffing between staggered steps, they were already dangling obnoxiously against his equally obnoxious bird-boned hips, a snide smile spread across the face of their captor. 

“I’m not out of shape.” Claude grumbled, unenthusiastic about the prospect of having his heavy breathing pointed out to him for the purpose of mockery. “You walk too fast.” 

“I’m hurrying.” Lorenz whispered- he insisted on whispering, something that left Claude a lot less than reassured about their surroundings being _truly_ deserted. “If you’d _like_ to be caught-”

“No, no.” Claude chuckled, a facade of cheerful optimism in his voice. “You’re right. We should be getting on with it.”

Both the keys and the lock were thoroughly rusted; almost to the point of being unusable. Still, Lorenz seemed not to struggle with opening it, the pronounced creak of the brass filling the air for a brief second before he grabbed hold of the doorknob. 

“Too noisy.” he muttered underneath his breath, hardly directed towards Claude. 

Claude, who had already slipped past him, did not deign to respond to him, either. He began to mingle amongst the various props and spare costume pieces stacked haphazardly on the shelves without paying a great deal of attention to Lorenz, his interest in the various items oblique and, to Lorenz’s embarrassment, almost endearing. 

After a few minutes of blind searching, he fished from a prop chest (repurposed as a real chest) a battered-looking metal timepiece, clearly much too old to tick. 

“The pocket-watch from Mysterious Mr Mayhem. One of the earliest von Essar roles.” 

“You’re familiar with the film?”

Claude nodded, quite suddenly enthusiastic. “My father played it all the time when I was a kid. I could probably recite all the lines to you out loud- not as good as von Essar, but I’m holding out for a reboot.” 

Lorenz frowned, his brows furrowed. 

“I… If you wish. Though if you could wait until after we have sex-” 

“Sex!” Claude exclaimed, suddenly struck by the sentiment. “I suppose I got distracted from that. Sorry?” 

“...Thank you. I think what is most important is that we proceed quickly-”

“So we don’t get caught.” 

“Right.”

“I’m not saying we _should_ get caught,” Claude murmured, half-focused on his words and half-focused on stripping himself of his costume trousers, “but it’d be a little hot if we were, right? Two famous actors, having a torrid affair with each other-” 

Halfway through removing his shirt, Lorenz grimaced. 

“I do this job to be known for my acting. Not my torrid affairs with co-stars.”

“Me neither.” Claude shrugged- awkward, half bent-over as he was. “But people like to hire actors who are a little… _controversial_. Everyone wants to be the one who gives a confident young upstart their first chance.” 

Lorenz huffed, the final lace of his costume corset undone after mere minutes.

“You have some nerve, calling yourself an upstart before lovemaking.” 

Claude crowded Lorenz into a kiss, pressed him into the dark wooden walls of the storage closet and listened to him gasp for as long as it took for it to become a moan. 

“I think of you, Lorenz,” Claude whispered darkly into the shell of Lorenz’s ear, “as my love interest, if just for the afternoon.”

Despite the needless dramatic flair, Lorenz seemed quite willing to let Claude subsume him, eagerly accepting the hand that slipped between his thighs and pressed hungrily at the seat of his un-doffed undergarments. Both were silent as he grabbed at the gentle cotton- high quality, the sort of standard Claude already knew Lorenz held himself to- and peeled it away from the narrow gap between Lorenz’s spread thighs. He pressed eagerly at a spot already wet with fluid as he did, eyed it with eager and undeniable interest. 

“And I thought we were only exchanging back-and-forth.”

Claude shimmied his way out of his own undergarments, his already-hardened cock slapping against his stomach as he did. He observed Lorenz’s face for some sort of snide reaction to the fact their bickering had aroused him so greatly, but he was nothing but observant, and Claude guessed that he had already considered how hypocritical such judgement would be. _He_ was already wet, after all. 

“Claude. If I had a watch, I would be tapping it.” 

_Hurry_. _Alright_. Claude felt pretty sure he could handle that. 

Hands clutching at Lorenz’s waist, he repositioned his lover, pressing him against the wall. He did not worry about its judgement- rather, he wondered how many similar trysts it had witnessed from the contemporaries who had passed through this place before them. 

“Is it romantic to fuck against a wall, Claude?” Lorenz inquired, the edge in his words blunt. Claude grinned, though he knew Lorenz had no chance of seeing the fondness he engendered within him- _perhaps for the best_ , Claude pondered. 

“It’s hot, Lorenz. But I’ll take you out for a candle-lit dinner later, if you insist.”

“Mm.” Lorenz’s response was non-committal- but when Claude slipped his cock between his milky thighs, slick from sweat that owed its existence to the unventilated room, he put up no pretense of protest. Rather, he allowed Claude his purchase, his place close to his warmth and his pleasure. 

Claude thrusted upwards, teeth gritted and breath heavy. Lorenz accepted him with an eagerness he hardly predicted, and he entered the wet hole without pause, ashamedly worked up at the slick tightness surrounding his cock. Blissfully unable to overanalyze Lorenz’s expressions- and heady with the confidence his own anonymity blessed him with- Claude swept the long, blunt-ended hair away from the back of Lorenz’s neck, and began to pepper it with kisses just light enough to leave no blemishes when they finished up. _That_ elicited a gasp from Lorenz, who took Claude deeper inside of him, thighs fully split as Claude twitched, inexperienced, around the pleasure which came each time he thrusted inwards. 

_Good, really good_ , Claude moaned, distracted, pretense of his own experience stripped away by the sensation of Lorenz surrounding him, wrapping around him. He hoped upon hope that Lorenz was not, himself, disappointed by his performance, unsure of where to put himself or how to move- unsubtly, one hand came to grasp the place in Lorenz’s chest where his heart thrummed deepest and most consistently, gauging its _thump, thump, thump_. 

_Fast_. Where his other fist remained wrapped around Lorenz’s wrist, loose enough to let the blood pump properly, he felt, too, his love interest’s pulse, which raced, and jumped in time with Claude’s enthusiastic movements. 

Lorenz remained quiet, save for a few stray gasps and grunts. Yet Claude felt fairly sure he had figured him out, and he continued with a renewed urgency, the pleasure of sex heady in his stomach. He clung tighter to Lorenz- pulled him into an insistent embrace- feeling quite sure that he was close to Lorenz’s core, wracked with a hunger to feel Lorenz around him when he came, anticipating the desperate pulse of it all. 

Lorenz moaned, the word _deeper_ slipping, ragged, from his mouth. In his eagerness, Claude fucked forward into the slick heat- yet he found himself undone in a single second by the tightness, by the way Lorenz _closed_ himself around his cock. He became, suddenly, paper-thin, ripped into by gale-force winds, shaking to the point that he could barely maintain the cocoon around Lorenz that he had formed himself into. 

He restrained himself, even as he was overtaken by the need to fall backwards, to crash against something, _anything_. If he pulled out, staining the historical walls which hosted their tryst, Claude felt quite sure that there would be no end to Lorenz’s admonishment. He spilled, instead, inside of Lorenz, who tightened again as he did, shaking around Claude’s own climax. His head lolled back far enough for Claude to catch a glimpse of Lorenz’s clearly-painted climax, his cheeks rose-red and _burning_ as Claude maneuvered carelessly to kiss them. 

He did not pull out until Lorenz insisted upon it, clearly unenthused to find his lover refusing to take the prerogative. 

“I will have to clean myself after this.” Lorenz grunted- Claude, briefly, entertained the thought of proposing to help him out with _that_ , too. 

“Should I have finished somewhere else?” Claude inquired, coy. Hardly to his surprise, Lorenz shook his head. 

“Certainly not. There should be no evidence of this, understood?” 

_And there it is_.

“Of course. Though- if you’d ever like to do this again-” 

“Do not try your luck.” Lorenz spat- and Claude grinned. “Though you are… good. For a virgin.” 

Claude’s brows furrowed, his wide-edged smile quickly becoming quizzical. 

“You could tell?” 

It was Lorenz’s turn to smirk, pulling himself back into the britches he donned for the period drama at hand.

“You’re an excellent actor, Claude. But there are things which no pretending can do justice to, and which can only be learned through rehearsal.” 

Claude flustered, cheeks warm, cock twitching in his trousers.

“...As an industry veteran-” 

Lorenz cut him off with an entertained snort, originating somewhere deep in his lungs. 

“I’ll have to think on it.” 

  
_Well_ , Claude told himself. _Better than nothing_.

**Author's Note:**

> ty for reading :-) 
> 
> i'm on twitter @meowcosm


End file.
